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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488029">etíemyhtipe not ohcnelé</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Mpreg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:07:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Essix was granted his wish.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>etíemyhtipe not ohcnelé</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The best thing, he found, was to control it. It only took a few minutes to figure the control out, and so, with his parents no longer at home, one at work and the other on a business trip, Essix spent his Saturday morning alternating between laying on his bed, standing in the bathroom, or sitting on the floor, marvelling at his new superpower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around noon, he went downstairs, grabbed some lunch, and went back up to his room, sitting down at the foot of his bed, back against it. The door to his room was shut, and the windows, while open, didn’t give anyone a few in at him, unless they climbed onto the roof and looked in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Essix began slowly, urging a pregnancy to begin, and it felt so good. He was shirtless, and it was a marvel to watch his too-skinny frame begin to fill out a bit, the flesh hardening under his touch, and then rising. His legs were already spread apart, knees up, and so Essix sped the growth up. He urged not only one, not two, not three, not even four, but five children to grow inside of him, his hands braced on the lump as it pushed out, forwards and to the sides, until he practically had a table. He pushed it as far as he could, as he couldn’t figure out how he was supposed to give birth just yet, and nor did he want that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he used his bare stomach as a table, to eat his lunch. Once he was done, Essix fumbled for the bedframe, gripping it in both hands. He hauled himself to his feet, stumbling, his back filled with pain, and waddled towards the bathroom, only to find himself stuck at the door, unable to push through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considered his problem and decided he wasn’t going to take the obvious solution, even if his feet were killing him, just like his back, even if he needed to use the washroom more than ever. His hands rested around his stomach, light and warm, slightly sweaty. Then, Essix rested them on his stomach, not around, and walked forwards, the sides of his stomach catching on the doorframe. Gritting his teeth, he pushed through, popping out, and stumbling into the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He relieved himself first. It was difficult to do so, his stomach dipping low, getting in the way, and when he sat down on the toilet seat, exhausted, and leaned back, it felt strange. Strange in such a good way, leaning as far back as he could, feet braced on the side of the tub, arms cradling his swollen stomach, the skin stretched painfully tight, hands roaming over the smooth flesh and tracing the belly button, which was pulled out. His stomach pulsed with something strange, something good, and he sat there for a while, letting his feet relax. Then, he hauled himself to his feet with the counter and towel rack, the latter of which creaked threateningly, but didn’t snap. And he faced the mirror, the one that ran the length of the counter. It was difficult since the bathroom was rather small, and so Essix hefted his hands under his stomach, lifting it up, rising on his toes and groaning with pain and effort. He lurched forwards and dropped the mass on the counter. It felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the relief amazing, the support even better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Struck with a thought, Essix shuffled backwards. His stomach dropped, literally, as he’d forgotten to support it, and he dipped with the weight, hunching over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heavily pregnant, he waddled out of the bathroom, into his bedroom. He’d already pulled all the curtains and things closed, hiding him so he could indulge. And he had hours alone still. Essix made his way out of his room, catching on the door again as he had with the bathroom door on the way in and out. He made his way to his parent’s room, hands gripping his stomach, and he shuffled to their bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked up one pillow, one of those long fluffy ones, then reached for another, only to be faced with a new issue. The other pillow was on the far side of the bed, and the bed was close to the wall on that side, too close for him to be able to get there while pregnant. Gritting his teeth, Essix lowered himself to the bed, sitting down, and reaching for it again. He was still unable to get it, and he tried to slowly lower himself down into a horizontal position to try again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t work. His stomach weighed too much, and he fell sideways, the bed sinking under him, making him roll onto his back. The good news was that he managed to get a hand around one corner of the pillow, and do the same for the third pillow, pulling them closer. The bad news was that he couldn’t get up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a great deal of failure and effort, Essix rolled onto his side, stomach rippling with the motion as much as the bed. With a great deal of struggle, he managed to sit up and use the bed frame to stand. Only for a new issue to arise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pillows were on the floor. When he tried to bend down, his stomach pulled him forwards, threatening to make him fall on it, which couldn’t be good for him. So Essix tried to squat. His stomach, absolutely massive, forced his legs apart, and he fell back onto his ass on the ground. He could reach the pillows, and he held them to his stomach, as best he could, spending at least ten minutes getting back on his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He headed back to his room, forcing his way through the doors, and sighed, exhausted, dropping the pillows on his bed. But it felt so good to problem solve like this. So, he headed back out of his room, and down the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gripped the railing with one hand. He would have done both, had he been able to reach, but he wasn’t able to reach, so one hand it was. Essix lurched with every step, stomach jiggling and rolling. He waddled to the couch, picking up the massive, fluffy blanket there, and heading back up, which was possibly worse than coming down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he made it back and began to arrange the things he’d collected, struggling with his stomach. But he managed, and laid down, practically falling on his back into it. The bed groaned under his weight, and he grinned, hands on his stomach, urging the pregnancy to leave. He began to deflate, and his hands lowered with it until he was back to his baseline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling both better and worse, Essix stood up, practically bouncing, and rearranged everything as he wanted it. He gathered a nightshirt, and pulled it on, sorting out his pillows and laying down in the nest, on his back. The bed didn’t make a sound under him, and he settled his hands on his stomach, leaning against the headboard, softened by the pillows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cupped the base of his stomach in both hands, keeping the extra-large nightshirt, which almost reached his knees, pinned between his hands and skin, his fingers in the crock of his legs and hips. Then, he began to grow, again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went for a lot more than five. He didn’t know how many he went for, but it was enough that he couldn’t wrap his arms around himself, that the nightshirt stretched and stretched and stretched and pulled tight, that his legs were forced wide and the pillows he’d put under him and around him, and under his stomach flattened, the bed groaning under his weight, dipping down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Essix grinned, and let go of the nightshirt at last. It sprung up, pulling up over the peak of his stomach and catching where the pregnancy began, near his ribs, except it was such a large pregnancy, that it started higher up than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned forwards. His stomach dropped, down onto the bed, and the bed groaned again, sinking even lower than before. It was massive and amazing. Essix leaned even further forwards, arms around it, hugging it, and he set his cheek down on the top, hands rubbing in circles. Even stretched out to their max, his arms didn’t even make it halfway to the peak of his stomach, and it felt way too good. Nothing should feel this good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled the pillows around him, shoving them under his stomach, revelling in the support as he hefted his stomach higher, struggling to put pillows under it until all the pillows and blankets were there, but it felt wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bathroom had felt right. Essix struggled, trying to get off the bed, and fell to the ground. The floor shook under his weight, the water in the glass on the nightstand sloshing around. Essix couldn’t pull himself back up, and he started to scoot to the bathroom, backwards, dragging his stomach, literally. He got stuck in the door, again, and no matter what he tried, could not get through. Reluctantly, he lowered the pregnancy, feeling light, and stood up, hefting his much-smaller stomach from below, and putting it on the counter. The feeling returned, and Essix focused on growing his stomach again, back up to the earlier size.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perfect.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They wouldn’t fit. Refused to fit, actually. Essix grinned, rubbing at the tiny bulge that was his stomach. He’d worked very hard to figure out the limit that he could have without anyone noticing. As it turned out, there was no limit. His mother had walked in on him with triplets and hadn’t even seemed to care. She hadn’t said anything, even sitting down beside him on the bed and massaging the taut skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the day was Monday. Essix had decided that he wasn’t going to make Monday any more difficult than he had to, even if there was no school these days. Or, he wasn’t about to, yet. So he’d urged a single child into his stomach while showering, watching his stomach rise ever so much, barely noticeable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wiggled again, pulling the jeans higher. They stretched around the little dome, tiny. He pulled them shut around it, sucking in a breath and zipping them up. They fit, nice and snug, and he smirked to himself, studying his reflection in the mirror from all angles, hands roaming over the growth. In the days since his wish had come true, he’d learned a great deal about controlling the specifics of it, and that included how it showed. This pregnancy was wider, and flatter, jutting out to either side of his hips, firm and tight and beautiful. Essix pulled on a hoodie, found his jacket and backpack, and headed downstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad,” he called, “Can you drive me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father was on the couch, reading. He hadn’t questioned a near-due Essix the night before at dinner, even when his son couldn’t sit in his chair as he normally did, nor did he question the sudden lack of a bulge. At Essix’s question, he did sit up, looking at his son. “Can’t you walk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine. Essix narrowed his eyes, focusing on his stomach, making it grow. He felt his jeans come to their limit, and with one hand, pulled them down, letting his stomach go free. His hoodie and jacket weren’t meant for pregnancies, and with how hard he pushed, the hoodie rode up, catching over the peak of his stomach and nothing more, jacket pushed to either side. His back caved in, the backpack weighing heavily on his shoulders. His father didn’t even blink, standing up, and heading for the garage, stopping beside Essix. He set a hand on Essix’s stomach, and Essix felt a kick, his hands automatically going to cup his pregnant self.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll drive you. Where are you going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The mall,” Essix said, heading after his father, and getting into the passenger seat, the truck rumbling under him. His hands hovered around it, and he tugged down his hoodie ever so much, trying to hide the bump for no reason other than to see if he could. He could not. It revealed a portion of it, and he pulled his jacket close around him, which worked better, even if he couldn’t zip it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drive was a short one, and Essix’s father promised to come to pick him up the moment he called. Essix slid out of the truck, waving good-bye. Nobody stared, or even looked at him funny, and when his father was out of sight, Essix, hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, and the pregnancy slipped back to what it had been earlier. He hefted his jeans back up and headed inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wandered for a few hours, then called his dad to come to get him. The reply was quick, and Essix waited outside, waiting for the truck to pull up. By the time it did, he’d grown back to a full-term, hoodie and jacket no longer able to hide him, the cold wind biting into his exposed flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely managed to climb into the truck. His father seemed slightly concerned, and Essix held his backpack between his feet, hands around the bulge. They drove home, and his father began to talk. “A bath would probably do you some good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Essix blinked. That was new.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’ll run it for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Essix grinned, rubbing his stomach, fingers running over his popped-out navel. As promised, when they got home, his father did run the bath, even going so far as to set out clothes and a towel for Essix, offering to help him undress, which was refused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Essix sunk into the bath, revelling in the warmth, the peak of his stomach poking out of the water, like an island. He set his hands on it, and sighed happily, leaning back in the tub, knees also rising out of the water, legs forced apart by his stomach, which he nudged from one child, along to two, watching the island grow, and then focusing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The growth changed. Instead of forwards, it spread to the sides, and Essix loved it. He sighed, sinking under the surface of the water, and relaxing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, he had to get out, and he dried himself off, dressing in the loose pants and t-shirt his dad had left him. The t-shirt was big and would have fit him, barely, if he’d stayed the size he’d been when he got in the bath. Since he hadn’t, it didn’t, and Essix didn’t care, making his way to his bed, and settling in, laying down on his side. His father came in, and sat on the side of the bed, bringing gifts, and starting to arrange pillows around Essix, perfectly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without realizing it, Essix was growing again, from two to three, stomach not going forwards at all, pushing down and to the sides. His father kept arranging the pillows, adjusting them, even as Essix added a fourth child, going past the due date size, making himself over-due. Then, his father rubbed at his stomach, the side that was visible, which felt even better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Essix fell asleep, perfectly content with the day.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>He wanted to do one, start to finish. So he did, beginning with just one child. He sped up the first bit of it the most, so that he slid into his jeans neatly and no more, letting it continue slightly more naturally throughout the day. It was low-set, and by the time Essix was wiggling into a pair of jeans, it had grown enough to make that a struggle. He smirked and pulled a belt through the loop-holes, before heading downstairs to start the day. His father had cooked for him, a large meal fit for someone carrying many more children then just one, and Essix sat to eat, the cravings from the child urging him to finish it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, he had to use the washroom, so he did, hands over the slight bump he carried, knowing he wouldn’t be able to feel any motion yet. Done with the morning, he went to sit down on the couch to watch some TV.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got distracted very quickly, by the pregnancy. He could feel it growing, ever so slowly, beautifully, already starting to press against the inside of his jeans, and he tugged his shirt up, watching it. Even though he wouldn’t be able to tell just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour later, he could tell. It pressed against his belt, painfully so, and Essix rubbed the top half, immensely enjoying the sensation, and not yet ready to relieve the pressure. One minute passed, then two, then five, and the pressure was creeping to a bursting point. Essix still didn’t unbuckle himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten minutes, then fifteen, then twenty. He was laying flat on his stomach on the couch, head supported by a pillow, and he had to do it. He fumbled with the belt, and the moment it was unlatched, it slid apart, the zipper pulled down and the button threatening to pop. He didn’t unlatch it, waiting for it to pop on its own, and it did, his stomach pushing forwards once it was off, as if it had been slowing it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lunch passed, and Essix hauled himself up, inhaling even more food than he had that morning, and having a second round of it. He didn’t stand up once, and could feel his stomach pressing against the table, getting caught under it by the time lunch was over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to pull himself out. His mother was watching television, and Essix sat down beside her on the couch, groaning, sinking down in his seat, his bump seemingly becoming even more visible and pronounced. His mother tugged him so he was lying across her, and started to rub at his pregnancy, which felt way too good.</span>
</p>
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